


Apprehension

by HixChick



Category: Alien Series
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Love, PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixChick/pseuds/HixChick
Summary: Ellen Ripley has lost everything, including any hope for a normal life, but what she finds in her darkest moments might just be enough.This story continues where ALIENS left off, and while some familiar characters and places from Alien3 make an appearance, there’s a very different outcome, one that includes everyone’s favorite space marine and....
Relationships: Dwayne Hicks & Ellen Ripley & Rebecca "Newt" Jorden, Dwayne Hicks/Ellen Ripley, Ellen Ripley/Dwayne Hicks, Ripley/Hicks, Ripley/Hicks/Newt
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

In the split second between slumber and consciousness, a vague familiarity breezed over her. Shadows. Movement. Silence. A rush of cold, stale air that filled her lungs. 

Ellen Ripley opened her eyes. Clouded by sleep and sickness, they made out the vague outline of someone standing over her as she felt the distinct prick of a needle eager to invade her skin. She grabbed the stranger’s arm. 

“What is that?” she asked, distrusting him immediately. It took another second for the paranoia to set in. 

“Just a cocktail of my own making.” His voice was mannered and eerily calm, as if he were trying too hard to not scare her. It didn’t work. 

“Are you a doctor?” she asked. 

“I’m Clemens. The Medical Officer here.”

“Here?”

“Fury 161. One of Weyland-Yutani's backwater work prisons,” he informed her. “Your EEV crashed here.” 

A million questions formed in her mind. She tried to zero in on one, but then Clemens held up the syringe again. 

“Do you mind?” he asked. “This is just a stabilizer of sorts.” 

Given the shooting headache and nausea, she reluctantly acquiesced and watched as the substance infiltrated her blood. It was oddly reassuring. 

“Where are the others?” she asked. 

He hesitated. Something was wrong. The deep-set lines on his face telegraphed his unease. Ripley got the sense that this apprehension was uncharacteristic of him. She swallowed, bracing herself for the impact. 

“They didn’t make it,” he answered soberly. 

“What?” She misheard him. Or this was another cryogenic-induced fever dream. It had to be. 

“They didn’t survive.”

This time the truth invaded her like the merciless creatures of her nightmares. In a prior lifetime, her mind would have rationalized the impossibility of it. Now, everything made perfectly twisted sense. 

“I want to see them,” she said. 

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” Clemens lamented, heedful of her desperate, searching eyes. “As is protocol in these unfortunate situations, we cremate the bodies. They were no exception.” 

Unfortunate?

Ripley bowed her head to fight back the tears. There’d be time for those later. 

“I don’t...I..” 

“I know this must be difficult,” he said. “Were you close? Family?” 

Ripley bristled at the word; its sting as potent as any injection. Shadowy images of Amanda vanished from her mind’s eye as rapidly as she conjured them. Then came Newt. Dwayne. Family. Perhaps they had been the closest thing she had left to one. 

She shook her head from side to side, the movements so slight they barely registered. He sensed regret, and a certain sadness in her reaction, as if she had wished it were true. 

“How?” she implored. “How did they die?” 

He glanced downward to avoid eye contact. Consumed by despair, she failed to notice. 

“You sure you want to know?” 

Ripley might have been content in her ignorance if not for the likelihood of the xenomorph’s involvement. Knowing she’d never see Newt or Hicks again was hard enough. But this was her life now. She’d have to probe and investigate, surmising the cause of their deaths ad nauseum until she broke. Maybe she already had. 

“Just tell me.” 

“Drowned. Both of them.” 

His words drifted past her as the world swallowed her. She suddenly lost the ability to hear, see, breathe. She was senseless in a space that no longer made any sense. Drowned. 

“I don’t think they were conscious,” he added, trying to soften the blow. 

It didn’t matter. There was nothing left for him to shatter. Recognizing this, he squeezed her hand and whispered another futile apology. At the moment, it was all he had to offer. 

“I want to see the ship,” she demanded. 

Surprised by the sudden strength of her insistence, he stood up, hoping the action would convey a sense of authority he didn’t possess. 

“I’m afraid that, too, is impossible,” he said. “This installation, where you’ve had the misfortune of landing, houses rapists, murderers, the whole sordid lot.” 

“I guess I’ll have to be careful then.” 

He straightened his posture. She was clearly a tough one. 

“Currently, they are unaware of your presence here. It would be ill-advised for you to wander out there and alert them.” 

“So no one knows I’m here except you?” 

“No one here knows but the superintendent, Andrews,” he clarified. “Weyland-Yutani is aware and is sending its nearest rescue team. Should be here in little over a week.” 

Unencumbered neither by this information nor clothes, Ripley removed her blanket and stood up. Clemens couldn't decide what was more impressive; Ripley’s distinctly feminine form, or her composure. While he momentarily struggled to maintain his, given the fact that it was the first time he’d seen a woman in years, she seemed emboldened by her pain. 

“You want to get me some clothes or should I go like this?” 

Clemens, obviously uncomfortable, cleared his throat. 

“I’ll get you something to wear.” He paused, unsure where to hold his gaze. “After that you should eat something. And you really ought to shave your head. We have an issue with lice here.” 

Ripley ran her fingers through her hair. What else could they take from her? 

“But I can’t let you leave this room,” he said. 

“Let me?”, she scoffed, incredulous. “So I’m a prisoner here, too?” 

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

The bandages around his chest and face were heavy in their vice like grip. The abrasive sheets beneath him scratched his exposed skin. Whatever he was lying on, it certainly lacked the relative decadence of a cryotube or even a cot on the Sulaco. 

As he slowly regained consciousness, images of his friends haunted him. Hudson, Vasquez, Frost, Sarge...gone. He had managed to do what they could not. All of them had been survivors of one sort or another, until they weren’t. 

Ellen. 

It had been the last thing he remembered saying; the last person he thought of before the morphine kicked in. She must have made it back with Newt. Surely Bishop wouldn’t have left them to die. There was no other acceptable outcome. A quick scan confirmed nothing. He was alone. 

The room felt sparse, clinical, old. This was not a modern space station or military base, and certainly not a civilian hospital. 

Where the hell was he? 

Hopefully he’d find out soon enough but the more pressing concern was finding the others. Agitated and impatient, he rolled onto his side, tearing the IV out in the process. His wounds hurt, but less than he’d expected, and he could tell that whatever medical care he received up to this point was working. 

“I’d advise against that, Corporal.” 

Hicks looked up, his uncovered eye fixating on the bald man standing near the doorway. From his clothing, weathered appearance, and general disposition, Hicks’ suspicions that he wasn’t back home were confirmed. 

“Where are they?”, he asked, concerned with nothing else. His throat was on fire. 

“You need to get back in bed,” the man replied. “That IV serves a purpose.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Worry set in. Maybe they hadn’t made it. Maybe this guy had no fucking clue who he was talking about. The man stared beyond him for a moment, preparing himself to respond. Something was very wrong. 

“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this,” Clemens sighed. “They didn’t survive the crash. Drowned.” 

What? 

Clemens immediately recognized the lines of grief on the soldier’s face, despite his bandages. How the three travelers were connected was unclear, but what was glaringly obvious was that Ellen Ripley and Rebecca meant something to him. 

“My condolences.” 

This isn’t happening. 

Hicks shook his head in disbelief. If he had ever entertained the notion of a higher power, he certainly didn’t now. This was a joke too cruel even for the most vicious of gods. Ripley had done what most people were incapable of; descended into hell for a child she barely knew, one whose life she valued more than her own, and this is how the universe paid them back. Gone before they even had a chance. 

Fuck. 

Denial quickly morphed into anger. 

“Where are the bodies?” Hicks asked, although Clemens got the distinct impression that it wasn’t so much a question as a command. 

“Gone.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“That was insensitive, I’m sorry,” he said, clearly agitated with himself. “This is a lead-works facility, now operating as a prison. It isn’t exactly the most sterile operation. We incinerated the bodies.”

Hicks closed his eyes and hung his head. Consumed by grief, he hadn’t the strength or resolve to muster any more of a response. Despair was all he had left. Clemens cleared his throat. Hesitant and awkward, he made no more attempt to console the distressed soldier. 

“Your EEV crashed in the ocean just outside this compound. You were lucky to have survived.” 

Lucky. Not the first word Hicks would have used to describe his situation. A wide variety of more colorful adjectives came to mind. He scowled at the stranger. Who the hell was this guy anyway?

Sensing that the marine had a million questions, Clemens continued, filling him in on the details of his arrival and recovery: the fact that his short but effective time in the medical cryochamber had allowed his extracted stem cells to patch up much of his wounds nicely. That the fire on the Sulaco had triggered the EEV to be jettisoned. That by his estimation, it was likely that Ripley and Newt had not suffered much. 

None of this information seemed to do a damn thing to appease him, however, and Clemens figured that leaving the corporal alone was the best thing for him for the time being. It took Hicks a few minutes to realize that the doctor had gone, although how long he had been sitting there alone was beyond him. However long it was, it felt like a lifetime.


	3. Chapter 3

Ripley sat at the edge of her cot, running her hand back and forth along her newly shorn head.  
It occurred to her that her scalp now matched the rest of her body; raw, vulnerable, and as exposed as it’s ever been. There truly was nothing left to lose. 

The heating system hummed along, lulling her into a trance-like state. If she hadn’t spent half a lifetime drifting through unconsciousness, her current situation would have felt novel. Apathy was now her new baseline and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever have the desire or capacity to care about anything ever again. 

But then she pictured the faces of the last two people who had mattered to her and felt powerless against the surge of emotion. First it was Newt, and that rare moment of levity they had shared on the Sulaco - one of the last things she remembered before tucking the little girl into what would become her coffin. Her wary but hopeful face haunted her now.

Then it was Hicks, with his bright eyes and even brighter smile, and the calming effect he had on her. She had made a clear connection with him, one she had looked forward to exploring further, but now found herself mourning the loss of all those possibilities. 

There was no more looking forward. Already robbed of her past, the future held only the promise of more darkness and isolation. All that remained was the crushing weight of the present.

Ripley wiped the lone tear from her cheek and stared at nothing in particular until the clang of metal against metal wrested her from her stupor. She glared at the steel containers on the tray, then up at the man who had placed them there. She hadn’t heard him come in and that unnerved her. 

“Compliments of the chef,” Clemens said, lifting the lid off of one of the larger bowls. 

She managed a half-hearted peek. While she had little doubt that her stomach would welcome their contents, she had neither the energy nor the will to partake. 

“No, thanks,” she said. 

The doctor frowned, disappointed by her indifference. 

“You might want to rethink that decision,” he said. “You’re still sick and you’ll need your strength to recover. There’s little to be gained from a self-imposed hunger strike.” 

“I’ll live,” she mused, the painful truth of that statement not lost on her. She took another cursory glance at the tray and noticed the table settings for two. Her lips turned the slightest bit upward, not quite passing as a grin. Clemens knew that was the best he was going to get. 

“I thought you might like some company,” he said, smiling in return. “But perhaps I overestimated my appeal as a dinner companion.” 

Ripley had to hand it to him. He was trying. But nothing he could do or say would change anything. Gone was the notion of normalcy. There were no more pleasantries between strangers, no more hopeful flirtations. There was nothing but the screams of solitude, eating away at her like the caustic blood of those beasts that stole everything from her. 

“Maybe some other time,” she offered, coolly. 

Clemens nodded in understanding. He knew he wouldn’t convince her to eat, not yet at least, but he wasn’t ready to abandon the struggle. 

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a candy bar. Despite her best efforts to conceal interest, Ripley’s face betrayed her. Having gone an extra few lengths to procure it for her, he was pleased with her response.

“I had a feeling this would do the trick.” He grinned. 

“I’m not going to say no to chocolate.” 

His smile widened. “Nor should you.”

He leaned in closer, letting his hand linger over hers as he offered her the bar. Ripley frowned, recalling the time she spied Hicks giving Newt one from his personal stash. Heartbroken, she lowered her head, pretending to massage a knot from her neck. Clemens remained unconvinced. 

“I know this has been extremely difficult for you, but I’d like to help any way I can,” he offered. 

“How about taking me to the EEV?” pressed Ripley. 

“Why do you want to see it so badly? I’d imagine it would only upset you more.” 

“Why don’t you want me to see it?” she countered, annoyed by his avoidance. “I know it’s got nothing to do with my safety.” 

“Is that an accusation?” he asked. 

Perhaps it struck closer to the truth than she thought. She stared at him, unflinching in her resolve, not about to let him off the hook. Barely hiding his agitation, he continued. 

“I’m concerned for the relative safety of everyone in this facility. Most of these men haven’t seen a woman in over a decade. I’d like to retain as much of what passes for order around here as possible.” 

“I’m probably the least of their worries.” 

“Meaning?” Clemens’ curiosity piqued. 

“Just show me where it is,” she softened. “I’ll deal with any fallout.” 

Taken in by her quizzical expression, he smiled, admiring her persistence. 

“That’ll make two of us,” he replied soberly. “I’ll take you early tomorrow morning when things are a bit less...active.” 

She wanted to trust him - that he was one of the good guys, whatever that meant - but her faith in humanity was all but gone. Still, she felt relieved, if not surprised, by his response and nodded in gratitude.

He returned the gesture. Time would tell if it was genuine.


	4. Chapter 4

The chill of the damp corridors was nothing compared to Clemens’ glacial disposition. Years in this place could certainly do that to anyone, but Ripley sensed there was something else at play. He was rushed and nervous, bordering on paranoid. This was the last thing he wanted to be doing, and he wanted her to know it. Nevertheless, she appreciated it. 

They walked through yet another set of doors, and her breath hitched. There it was. The escape vehicle that had protected them and housed them for the briefest of time. Now just twisted and cratered steel remained- shards of a life stripped of all hope. 

Standing in its ghostly shadow, it took all her strength not to turn back. She knew what she would find inside, the inevitability of it almost a relief. Almost. 

“You want to tell me what you’re looking for?” Clemens asked. His anxiety faded, replaced by curiosity. 

“I just need to see inside.” 

She stepped into the mangled opening and began scanning over everything but the cryo chambers. She wasn’t ready for those. 

“The landing was a bit rough,” Clemens offered unnecessarily. 

Ripley scoffed at the gross understatement, eyes peeled for the telltale sign she expected to find. So far, nothing. 

“The flight recorder?” she asked, noticing its absence.

“That’s how we know who you are,” he answered. “Didn’t tell us much except there was a fire on the main ship. Electrical.” 

Her agitation was mounting.

“There’s got to be more.” 

“Ripley, that’s all we know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I can’t give you information I don’t have and I don’t know what else you’ll find here. We shouldn’t be here.” 

“Where were they?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“When you found them,” she clarified. “Were they in the freezers?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “Drowned, like I said.” 

“And me?” 

“You washed up on shore.” 

Ripley nodded, trying to piece it all together. Why was her freezer, the one sandwiched between Hicks’ and Newt’s, the only one that opened? All of them seemed to be intact. Something didn’t quite add up. She approached the cryo-chambers, dreading what she would discover. Nothing. No sign of the creatures. Just another reminder of what she had lossed. 

Clemens squeezed her shoulder softly, partly to comfort her, but mainly to refocus her attention. They had lingered longer than he preferred. She didn’t care. She wanted answers, but neither the doc or the EEV were up to the task. 

“We’ve got to go back,” he warned. “If someone sees you then this is all over.” 

When she raised her eyebrows inquisitively, he added, “Order. Civility. Normality.” 

She found his misguided sense of control amusing, as if anything they did could bring order or civility to this place. Or any place. If he only knew what normality looked like for her now, he wouldn’t be so eager to maintain it.

But she wasn’t about to unload another round of testimony. The result was always the same; no one believed her. She certainly didn’t expect a different outcome this time. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity? Maybe she was already there. Maybe the struggle to survive was insane at this point. 

“Well we certainly don’t want to disrupt the civility of this place.” 

Clemens stared at her, somewhat annoyed, but mostly impressed. Despite her circumstances, this woman was tenacious. 

“Right,” he sighed, turning toward the exit. “Let’s head back, shall we?” 

Ripley followed him but wasn’t satisfied with the limited information she gleaned from this little field trip. She took her time, hoping to find some shred of evidence as to what transpired on the Sulaco. As she passed the last cryotube, she paused. 

“What about the android?” 

He stopped but didn’t turn around, his hesitance notable. “Completely inoperable. We put him out for disposal.” 

Ripley’s bullshit meter started to go off, but she didn’t let on. Clemens was holding back. He knew something that for some reason he was keeping from her. By her earlier calculations, she had roughly ten minutes before they’d make it back to her room. Maybe he’d slip up and give something away. Maybe she’d spy something of some value. If she couldn’t have access to the flight recorder, perhaps she could put her trust in Bishop one last time. The only problem was she’d have to find him.


	5. Chapter 5

I should be used to this by now, Ripley thought. 

Every breath was painstakingly deliberate. Every footstep timed to the metronomic beat of dripping water. It wasn’t noise that scared her. She knew all too well what lingered in the silence. If memory served, she still had two more left turns before she’d reach the garbage dump. So far, it appeared that making this trek before dawn was the right call. 

When she pushed open the last of the doors, a torrent of rain and rocky debris greeted her. LV-426 was a dream compared to this. Pulling her shirt up to shield her face, Ripley backed into the heap of trash and metal. She decided to view the hellish weather conditions as advantageous, figuring no one would have cared enough about hiding a mangled android to have ventured far out in this. He had to be close, but where? Seeing anything in this was near impossible. 

She scanned the outcroppings of garbage that littered the field; a topographical hellscape of refuse. Then she saw it. Small and faint, the white droplet contrasted just enough against the gun metal grays and browns to catch her eye. Never did she think she’d welcome the sight of the milky, viscous fluid, but now its familiarity bordered on nostalgia. She followed the trail as closely as she could, powering through the relentless wind. When she saw a fleshy digit poking through a pile of rusted crates, she leapt to its side. 

Bishop. 

Ripley inhaled deeply, surprised by her reaction. It had taken a while to develop, but her fondness for him was sincere. He had exhibited more kindness and humanity than most humans she’d known. Regret and guilt for how she had treated him nestled their way in amongst the hundreds of other emotions that raged within, numbness still eluding her. 

Tossing the scraps aside she uncovered his mangled torso and face, still childlike and honest despite his gruesome appearance. Seeing him this broken saddened her, not only because she’d likely never get the answers she sought, but because she considered him a friend. Still, he was the one thing tethering her to any semblance of the life she once claimed as her own, and she wasn’t going to leave him out here like this. 

Then he stirred, startling her, although his tenacity was unsurprising. 

“Bishop?” she cried, hoping her voice would pierce through the squall. “Bishop, can you hear me?” 

“Rip-“ he gurgled as fluid spewed from his mouth. “Ripley. It’s good to see you.” 

“I’m going to get you inside,” she explained, grabbing him under his shoulders. There was no way she’d hear him over the blustering wind.  
When she reached the door, she stuck her leg in the gap made by the pipe she wedged in there, and kicked it open before dragging Bishop’s torso inside. It’s slam gave way to a jarring silence. She glanced behind her, vigilant despite her impatience. 

“I like your haircut,” Bishop quipped. 

She smiled her first genuine smile since she last interacted with Newt on the Sulaco, and despite the fact that she was soaked, she was sure Bishop noticed the tears running down her face. That he was still functional was a gift. The fact that he was joking with her was more than she could have hoped for. 

“It’s good to see you too, Bishop,” she said. “I never really got to thank you for all your help.” 

“There’s little good I can do for you now, I’m afraid.” 

“I don’t know about that,” she replied. “I think you’re the only one who can help me. I need to know what happened on the Sulaco.” 

Ripley watched as Bishop closed his eyes, praying it meant he was retrieving data and not malfunctioning. 

“There was a fire. Electrical.”

“Caused by one of those?” she asked, impatiently. 

“Yes.” 

“Did it stay on the Sulaco or was it with us in the EEV?”

“They were with us all the way.” 

“They?” 

“Two life forms. Larvae.” 

“Jesus. Did you pick up anything on our scanners? Anything on Newt? Hicks?” She paused. “Me?”

“No. All three bio readouts were clear,” he said, his circuitry clearly sluggish. “But I don’t have data after the crash.” 

Ripley hung her head. Her chest, heavy with guilt and grief, was, for the time being, still her own. 

Ripley?” asked Bishop. “What happened?” 

She refused to answer. Saying it aloud made it real. 

“Based on your emotional response, my guess is you’re alone. I’m sorry.” 

“I am, too.” 

Ripley should have been surprised by how genuine and sympathetic Bishop was being but she wasn’t, which made his next statement that much more difficult. 

“As much as I want to be of service, I'm too far beyond repair.” 

Before she could even attempt to talk him out of it, he added, “Disconnect me.” 

She looked around then stared off into the distance, thinking she may have heard something, but then rationalized that it was just her mind trying to buy time. Whatever few seconds they had left together was all the currency she had left in the world. 

“Please.” 

She understood. She’d heard enough pleas for death to know how much he meant it. 

“Goodbye, Bishop.” 

Ripley pulled the plug. Bishop’s broken body let out one last sigh as it expelled its last trace of existence. She truly was alone.


End file.
